


Heartbeats

by DawnsEternalLight



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bonding, Bruce deals with almost losing his kids again, Bruce takes care of his kids, Family, Gen, This is what happens, after batman 16 before batman 17, batman 17, filler fic, i had a lot of feelings so I wrote them out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-25 12:17:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9820220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DawnsEternalLight/pseuds/DawnsEternalLight
Summary: Bruce has lost every one of his kids before, in some way or another. He thought he'd kept them safe from Bane when he sent them away. He was wrong.Set directly after Batman #16 and before #17





	

**Author's Note:**

> Most of this fic is purely speculation, it's mostly just my writing out all the feels I had leftover from reading Batman #17. So much of it could change in two weeks, but it was cathartic to get the words out. Enjoy.

Bruce’s breath was caught in his lungs. It was a strange feeling. Having the air inside him pressed against his ribcage, a bubble of fear and panic. Bruce could count the number of times he’d felt it. He could count it with names, with faces, with children. The pressure ate at him, stealing and shredding his heart every time it came and left. He’d lost so many, he hadn’t been sure how much of his heart was left. Now he was.   
  
All that he had left of his heart hung in front of him.  
  
Bruce felt his heart stutter to a stop. It did not stop of course, it only felt like it did. The world slowing down to the time between beats. He counted them: Dick. Jason. Damian. His boys. His sons. His mind processed what had happened. He’d trained it to. Taking in the information before him and churning out answers in less than a second, heedless of the turmoil in the rest of him.  
  
They’d gone after Bane. When he’d told them not to. They’d done it for him. He should have known. Should have done more. Shouldn’t have let his trust win out the day. It was better to ask for forgiveness than permission.   
  
The beat landed and his feet were moving. His mouth shouting orders to those around them. Panic blurred memory and time as he got them down. He had to get them down. A part of his brain was trying to tell him that it was a ruse. A lie crafted by Bane to throw him off, to stop him from getting Claire to the pirate.  
  
He knew better. These were his boys. His brave, foolish, boys. His boys who would do anything for him. Including going behind his back to try and help. He swallowed bitter bile, he’d trained them well.  
  
His ear pressed to Damian’s bare chest, heedless of the still wet paint. Searching for the faint flutter that had to be there. It had to be there. His ear grazed the rough edges of the scar on his son’s chest. The scar Bruce had been too foolish to prevent. The scar that had torn his son from him once before.   
  
His breath returned as he felt it, weak, tired, but there the beating of one heart. Then Alfred called out Dick’s name and Jason’s. Bruce’s heart let itself beat again. They were all breathing. All alive. He didn't know how. Didn't care. The fact that they were was enough. He could care why later, after they were safe.  
  
He sent Alfred and Claire away. There was no time for them to stay. He wouldn’t hurt her chances because of his failure. He would take care of his children on his own. They were his. His to care for. His to protect. His.   
  
His head was spinning. His heart breaking between beats. His brain churning out possibilities. One after another being discounted. Almost every option ending with them waking up and going after Bane again. Each event played out like a movie in his head. Over and over he saw his boys facing off against Bane. Every option ending in death.   
  
He couldn’t let it happen again. Not to any of them. Not when it had been his fault they’d all died before.   
  
Dick. Sweet. Bright. His light. Beaten and tortured while he wasn’t there. His heart stopping to save the world.   
  
Jason. Earnest. Broken. Beautiful Jason alone, his heart shattered because Bruce wasn't fast enough.   
  
Damian. Brash. Impulsive. Kind. His heart torn open because of a war he never should have been a part of a casualty of Bruce's pride. 

And Tim. Tim wasn't there, and it was Bruce's fault. Intelligent. Fragile. Gentle Tim. Lost forever because of Bruce. His heart broken because of the pressure he put on him, the weight laid on his shoulders by Bruce who should have paid more attention.

Bruce had lost Tim and he wouldn’t lose anyone else.  
  
There was one option left as his heart shuddered to its next beat. It took one phone call and a few minutes to get them ready. It was easy when none fought him. Bruce knew he should be worried that they hadn’t woken yet, but it was a relief. He didn't have to explain himself this way. He cleaned the paint and obvious wounds then redressed them. His hand lingering on Jason's cheek, in Dicks hair, on Damian's chest, then he moved past.   
  
He couldn't take them all at once. Not by himself. It was ok. It would give him the time he needed to say goodbye. Just in case.   
  
Dick was first. His oldest. He'd grown so much, yet Bruce could still carry him like his was the small boy he'd seen at the circus all those years ago. His legs were on autopilot as he carried the oldest of his sons. The teleport moving them from cave to fortress in a heartbeat.   
  
Dick had been the ringleader. And Bruce wouldn't blame him. He'd learned from the best after all. He knew his brothers would go with or without him and he'd chosen to be with them. To protect them and make sure they made it home. Bruce loved his son's selfless heart. The kindness that came so easy to Dick was something Bruce took as a source of pride. Dick hadn't lost his goodness when he'd lost his parents. Bruce and Alfred had seen to that.  
  
Three cryotubes for three sons. He knew somewhere in the fortress there were four and his heart twinged again. He'd failed Tim. But he wouldn't fail anyone else. Bruce took a moment to memorize Dick's face as he laid his first Robin in the tube. Handsome. Gentle features slept before him. Bruce cupped Dick's cheek. I love you.   
  
Jason was next. He was bigger even than Bruce now, but no harder than Dick to carry. He was a comforting weight on Bruce's back. The light rising and falling of his chest a reminder that this time Bruce could so something to keep his boy alive.  
  
Bruce had so recently gotten Jason back. First from death. Then from the isolation of anger and hurt. They were finally making progress. Bruce could see the light back in Jason's eyes, could start to hope that one day his son might come home for good again.   
  
He laid Jason down and his breath swept out of him. He was still so young. So young and so broken. He wanted to promise then and there to do everything he could to make Jason as peaceful in his waking hours as he was now asleep. But there was still Bane to deal with.   
His heart caught in his throat as he pressed a kiss to Jason’s forehead. I can't lose you again. You understand that, right?  
  
Damian. His youngest. His most vulnerable. Tied in Bruce’s heart with Jason for the one he’d failed the most. Bruce scooped him up and pulled him close, his son’s feather light breaths barely moving the tiny chest beneath him.   
  
There were days when Bruce couldn’t keep his eyes off his son’s chest. Couldn’t stop himself from seeing the hole that had been there. One would think it would be his son’s face he couldn’t get out of his mind, but it was the raw gaping wound that haunted Bruce’s dreams and drove him to check on his son in the middle of the night.  
  
He’d stepped back into the fortress when the child in his arms stirred. Tight relief spread through Bruce as Damian cracked an eye open, his voice scratching out the question Father? Shh Bruce cooed back. Sleep now, you're safe.  
  
Damian gave a contented sigh as Bruce tucked him into the last cryotube, his eyes slipping closed again even before the lid had shut. The antiseptic scent from the tube made him cringe. He’d have kept them home if he could. Kept them safe there, let them heal surrounded by love. Instead he had to trust in cold mechanics. But trust them he could.    
  
Bruce stood back and took a last look at the remaining pieces of his heart. Healing. Resting. Safe. He had no idea if he’d make it back to bring them out. He hoped he would. He had a plan, if he worked it things should go well. But he’d had a plan for his boys and they’d ended up here instead. For a brief moment he was angry. Angry at them, at himself, at Bane. It didn’t last, it couldn’t not when he had to look at them through glass.   
  
The sound of doors opening told him his time was up. One heartbeat, two, three, and he’d looked them over again, promising despite himself to return.   
  
Four days without his sons felt like an eternity. Four days dealing with Bane made Bruce feel like he’d been dropped through time all over again. All he wanted to do when it was over was get his kids. Clark had kept his promise and kept them safe, and Bruce wanted to see them. His anger over their refusal to listen a thing of the past in the wake of exhaustion and the desire to hear their voices.   
  
Alfred would not let him leave. They were fine, they could wait a few hours while he slept he’d said. He didn't want to collapse the moment they woke did he? Did he want to put that pressure and worry on them, after waking them in a strange place? The answer was supposed to be a no. Bruce told him he didn’t care. That’s when everything had started spinning. Part of him wanted to blame it on Alfred. The other part knew it was the result of having gotten no sleep over the past five days.   
  
He’d collapsed before he could even leave the cave.   
  
When he came to he was in his bed. He kept his eyes squeezed shut against consciousness until his thoughts caught up with him. His heart jumping with them. His children. He’d left them. They still needed to be woke up. He realized then that something warm was pressed into his side. Both his sides. And his chest, there was a heavy weight across it.   
  
He opened both eyes, his room was dark, but not too dark to recognize the three figures tucked around him. Damian curled into his side, his head the weight on Bruce’s chest. Dick wrapped around Damian, an arm flung over both Damian and Bruce to rest on his stomach. And Jason, pressed against him, like Bruce hadn’t seen since he’d been a boy sneaking into bed to ward off nightmares. They’d changed into pajamas, so they’d been up a while before finding him. Each looked healthy and content snuggled around him.   
  
He pulled the comforter up from where it had slipped, tugging it around his boys, tucking them in as best as he could without jostling them awake, and then pulled them a bit closer, his tired eyes already sinking with the release of his stress. His chest lost the pressure he’d held there for days. Safe. His boys were safe. Claire was fine. Bane dealt with. There was nothing left to worry about. Then he slept, safe himself as the remains of his heart were wrapped around him.


End file.
